Human
by MarenMary93
Summary: Stiles likes being the human. Really, he loves it! But this time, supernatural healing would have been preferable. hurt!Stiles
1. Classroom

**Okay, this is my first Teen Wolf story, so if I'm a little 'off' on the characters... Bear with me...**

**Okay, here goes nothing!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Stiles' foot was jumping up and down. Patience had never been one of his virtues… Nor had the art of sitting still.

And history class was going slow. They had spent three weeks on the topic of the civil war… And he would have aced the test after the first day. After one class, and one night with the history book along with a considerable amount of Adderall…

His fingers joined in on the parade. He tapped the beat of a self-made medley of 'bat out of hell' and 'Sk8ter boy' on the top of his desk. It was one hell of a mix!

The teacher's eyes found his. His brow tightened above his glasses. Obviously annoyed.

"Stilinski! Can you do the entire class the pleasant favor of sitting still… For ONCE!?" the poor history teacher had met his limits, picked up and slammed the two-and-a-half-inch thick history book down on his own desk.

Stiles stopped abruptly. He never _meant_ to bother anyone… It just kind of happened…  
He wouldn't blame it on his ADHD. He hated when people blamed any of his quirks on his ADHD, but to be fair… It seemed like no-one else had that problem…  
Well… Unless they shared the same diagnosis…

"I…" YES! He managed to stop the rest of the sentence in time!

"You what?"

Stiles could feel the cold blue eyes of the history teacher drilling into his skull. And he _knew_ he should just keep his mouth shut. It would be the best choice for all the parts involved…

But then again… The distance between what he thought and what he said was too damn short… It was shorter than daisy dukes shorts… Short, short, short…

"I was just bored, this is a particularly boring class. Especially this subject… Especially you…" Oh God, could he bite himself…? How in the name of God could he blurt out that? He was basically giving himself detention… He was shooting himself in the foot… No wait… To actually shoot himself in the foot might have been better…

"That just cost you one hour…" was all the teacher managed before he was cut off by an overly restless Stilinski.

"of detention… Got it! Just go ahead and continue your boring-ness…" he could have punched himself! Why didn't anybody stop him? Like… Smack the back of his head whenever he should shut the F up!

Someone in the class started giggling. And the teacher's face turned pink, then red…

"Make that two!" he cleared his voice, "Or do you want more?"

"No, sir!" he relaxed when he realized that he hadn't said any more to offend the history teacher. Boy what a luck he had today!

…

The clock on the wall was tick-tock-ing along slowly. It shouldn't be this loud, should it? Boy, was he glad he didn't have werewolf hearing! I mean; it would have been like a sledgehammer hitting an anvil each and every second!

His leg had taken up the task of burning a hole in the tile beneath his shoe, and his pen had become a very interesting object. The simple motion of clicking the pen was very stimulating, and the world seemed to close in and evolve around the pen.

*click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click…*

"STILINSKI!"

He stopped once again. Looked up at the teacher, who almost had steam coming out of his ears.

"Hallway! Now!"

His jaw went slack. "But…"

"Just. Go."

* * *

**Yeah... And as you might have read in the summary, this is going to be a hurt!Stiles fic... But that will come in a chapter of two... Maybe three...**


	2. Practice

**Here comes another chapter. **

**Hope you enjoy!  
I'm still warming-up myself...**

* * *

He had somehow managed to negotiate _when_ he had to sit in for detention. He had managed to get it moved from today, Thursday, and all the way to Monday. Which fit his lacrosse schedule a bit better. A lot better to be honest.

He was still impressed with his own skills as he walked into the locker-room ready to change into his lacrosse outfit.

He opened his locker, smiled as he remembered the unbelievably embarrassing moment when a twelve foot long chain had rolled out of the top shelf inside it. It had been in the start of Scott's wolvelihood. And he still remembered it very clearly almost two years later…

"Okay. Listen up boys!" coach Finstock yells into the room, "Tomorrow's the big game!"

"And I want each and every one of you to be at your best!" he looked between Scott, Greenberg and Stiles, "So no injuries tonight, not even you Greenberg!"

They nodded, of course they would do their best to keep themselves uninjured. I mean, that's what both humans and werewolves strive for. Isn't it?

…

When coach was finished with his pre-pre-game speech, Stiles stripped off his tee-shirt and tugged a clean lacrosse tee out of his gym bag. As he unfolded (uncurled) it, his eyes landed on the yellow and green remains of a bruise he had gotten two weeks ago. His elbow was still a bit sore from that blow.

He looked back up and found Scott's eyes burning into his. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Yeah!" he pulled the shirt on before he continued in an angry whisper, "It's been two weeks, and there is nothing wrong with my arm. Except for the humongous bruise from slamming into a concrete fender!"

Scott scrunched his nose, he had been a witness to the whole being tossed through the air scenario Stiles had gotten himself into…

_Memo to future self; NEVER play football with werewolves, if you're not one yourself…_

"I'm pretty sure I heard it crack!" Scott tried to reason, he had almost managed to drag his buddy down to the hospital afterwards. But Stiles was… Well… He was Stiles…  
As comfortable around hospitals and needles as you would guess someone would be after seeing one of their parents waste away in a hospital bed.

"You heard something crack…" Stiles frowned as he remembered the feeling of said 'crack', "And it was either the wall or my ankle… You know how it gets sometimes…"

"But…"

To avoid further discussion of the subject, Stiles lifted his right foot a couple of inches off the ground and started to roll his foot up and down. Once on the way down and twice on the way up there was an audible popping sound every time he did it. It had been like that since he was ten or something… Probably the day he should have learned that jumping off things twice your height is not a good idea.  
Did he learn… You can bet your ass he didn't!

"Awww! Stop that! It's horrible!" Scott whined as he held his hands over his ears, blocking some of the sickening sound.

"Stilinski! Can you stop doing that! You're giving me a migraine!" Isaac butted in after a few more seconds of the popping ankle.  
Maybe he should start a body-band…? Like Popping-Ankle &amp; Creaky-Neck… Yeah! That would be…  
…Dull…

He stopped before he stood in danger of causing a werewolf attack in the locker-room. That would have been a bit difficult to explain…

Great. Now the ligaments in his ankle itched! And he knew the only way of scratching that itch was to pop his ankle… But… He had a couple of friends with superhuman hearing, and a set of claws and fangs…

Super!

…

Warm-up was killer, as it always was. He had no chance of keeping up with Scott or any of the other pack-members, so he just tried to survive. Surviving was what mattered during the warm-up.

"Come on Stilinski! McCall is two laps ahead of you!" coach yelled at him as he joined in on the running for a few yards, "My dear old, dead, grandma moves faster than this! Heck, I've seen glaciers with better pace than this!"

Oh… If he had had just an ounce less of self-control at that moment, coach Finstock might have had to consider a reconstructive nose job…

But he gritted his teeth and prayed that his lungs wouldn't catch fire, as he tried picking up his pace.  
No wait, his lungs were already burning… Okay… He prayed that they wouldn't implode then…

Just one more round and he was done! Just a couple hundred yards more and he was officially done with the warm-up.

...

Just as he was about to cross the finish-line something embarrassing happened. Of course it had to happen…

His ankle locked on itself and he managed one more step on it before he full on FACEPLANTED! He could feel how blood rushed to his face and filled every small blood vessel making his face turn a surprisingly bright shade of red.

His ankle decided to let him free from his agony and he could pull himself to his feet before anyone else managed to get over to where he was. All he had managed to get during his little incident, was two scraped up knees and one bloody palm. Considering that he had been running as fast as his lungs would allow him, he was pleased with the outcome of the whole situation.

Scrapes healed quite fast. Even for humans…

"Stilinski! Are you alright?" wait, was that the human emotion of true worry he heard coming from the coach?

"Yeah, fine! Just left some skin on the track that's all…" he answered as he bent down to brush away a small pebble stuck in the scrape on his left knee…

"Good!" coach patted him on the back as reassurance, before his tone went back to the usual joking/bullying thing he had going on, "Can't lose any one of you before the big game tomorrow! Not even you Stiles!"

It was okay. He knew that coach Finstock was only joking about that 'not-even-you' part. He knew that in some twisted up way, coach had a need to keep his guard up at any moment. Even if that meant verbal abuse of him and the others.  
Poor Greenberg… Stiles would really like to know the background story on why he was the one that got nagged on the most…

…

The rest of the practice went on without further complications. And he was ready for the game come tomorrow evening. All he really needed now was a shower and a good night's sleep.

* * *

**Well...  
I think I'll bring out my A-game soon...  
Anyone else feeling the agony to come...?**

**And thanks for the review **** missxD-TVS SPN _, _you totally made my day!**  
**Thank you!**


	3. Game

**Here comes another one for you! **

**Hope y'all enjoy it!**

* * *

Friday night! The lights were lit and the crowd was ecstatic. It was a home-game so there were extra many there to cheer for their team. Boy was he excited!

He was feeling the pre-game jitters. He had been restless the whole day, even with his daily dose of Adderall…

They were competing against their 'enemies' tonight. It was their neighbor team that was coming. Devenford prep was one thing, but this was their sworn enemies. This was just 25 miles up the road… This was their neighbors…  
This was Brunette Rock, and they had always been their worst enemies on and off field.

It was far from the most important game of the season if you rated it by where they would rank at the end of the season... But it was _the most important_ game of the season for most Beacon Hills residents. Solely because of the constant feud between Beacon Hills and Brunette Rock…

There were stories about BR's that came to Beacon Hills parties just to fight and make mischief. His pa had arrested a few himself, and almost gotten his teeth kicked in at one or two occasions in his youth…

The rivalry was real, _and_ it was prominent. Coach had complained during economics about waking up to his car papered down… Of course it was the BR's who had TP-ed his car…

…

After they all had changed into their gear, and coach Finstock had given his usual speech. The one from 'Independence Day'… It had started out once a year, and it had morphed into his regular pre-game speech…  
Everybody knew the words… Backwards…

They walked out on to the field. It felt like the whole town had showed up. And about half of Brunette Rock had showed up too…

"Hey, if you want to wolf out tonight… I bet some of those dudes are taking steroids!" Stiles whispered to Scott as they walked over to the benches to set down their bottles and extra gear.

"A couple of them are definitely on something… I can smell it…"

"See, then it's not cheating if you and the others wolf up!"

"It is cheating…"

"Just wolf up a little bit… Okay…?" a sly grin spread across his face. Hope in his eyes… "I mean, they're walking mountains of muscles! I'm not talking about maiming here… Just a little bit of wolfie eyes and a little bit of those muscles…"

Scott rolled his eyes.

…

The first quarter was okay. The usual rivalry was close to its peak, they scored a couple of goals, and so did the Brunette Rock's too… (That part was not as great…)

The other team played rough, fly through the air rough… That meant; you got tackled and you ended up flying through the air, like a paper plane… Stiles managed to tear up his scraped knees, and by the end of the first quarter they were bloody and sore, but it was all a part of the game. If he couldn't live with that, he had nothing to do on the field in the first place…

He drank willingly from his bottle during the break. The other team played rough, and they had to keep up with them. They were giving it all they got.

He gulped down half a bottle before the judge signaled that the players had to return to their places for the second quarter. Somehow coach had decided to place him as a midfield player during this game… He had no clue why he got the part with the most running involved…

…

Number 17, some guy with the surname Dylan, on the opposite team had the ball. He was a big boulder of a man (a person that big can't be called a boy…) And he was running full speed towards Stiles.

_Why is it always me that gets charged by human bulldozers?_ _I mean, it's probably more fun to test your strength with someone closer to your own league!_ He was ready to charge himself, but a few yards before number seventeen reached him, Liam slammed into the bulldozer's shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.

With his heart thundering in his chest, he looked up at Liam.

"Thanks!" it was barely above whisper, but he knew Liam would hear it anyway. Kind of went with the whole supernatural hearing thing he had going on…

"No problem, you're only human after all…" Liam said in a low voice and smirked, "and that guy is a beast!"

The so-called beast managed to put his legs beneath himself and got up. Then he proceeded to brush some grass off his shoulder before he ran off to continue playing. The game had continued without further ado, Greenberg had managed to get the ball when the opposite team had lost it. And now he was about to pass it along to Scott.

He barely avoided getting attacked by number 17 a couple of more times before the end of the second quarter. It really started to seem like he had something he just hated about Stiles, and that it was his mission to eliminate Stiles at whatever cost…  
Oh, he didn't like the thought of that…

…

He survived the second quarter, and he was benched during the third one… Mainly because he asked for it. His lungs were burning and he really needed a break so he wouldn't become completely useless…

"You're doing good out there…" coach stated as he took a seat on the next bench. "All of you… Well except for Greenberg. That kid annoys me…"

Stiles couldn't help but let out a small laugh. He had to find the reason for Finstock's Greenberg hate. It bothered some small part of his brain that always looked for answers and links… He just really needed an explanation…

"Just give me a word when you're ready to get back out there… It looks like Randall is close to succumb…"

Stiles chugged down the last of his water and stood up. "I'm ready… Just needed some water…"

"Good… HEY! RANDALL! CHANGE WITH STILINSKI!" he then looked over at Stiles standing by the bench, "Get your helmet on, you're up!"

"Yes, coach!" Stiles smiled. He couldn't believe how much his life had changed over the past couple of years. From the start when both he and Scott were basically just extras in case the whole damn team got injured at once, to being some of the most frequent players on the team.

Okay, yeah… They were seniors now, and this was their last season in high school lacrosse… But his grades were good, and Scott had managed to boost his own grades, and they both had all sorts of different college scouts checking up on their games. It was fun, it kind of lifted him up! And if they both were lucky, they could go to the same school, both on a full scholarship and play for the same team. That would be great!

He barely made it out on the field before number 17 switched in too. He had been taking a break at the same time as him. Stiles couldn't say, honestly, that it didn't bother him a bit. In fact… It scared him…

He had had the role as main target the whole game, and he was pretty sure that it wouldn't stop now.

…

Scott passed the ball to Stiles, who ran a couple of yards before he passed it back to Scott again. Just as the ball had left his stick a body slammed full force into his. Giving him a flying lesson as Scott scored…

When he landed he was surprised to find that nothing had happened. There is no way you get hit my a human mountain in motion and get away from it unharmed. But nothing hurt, and his didn't spin…

"Are you all right?" Greenberg asked, he was the one closest to Stiles.

"Oddly enough… Yeah!..." he responded amazed by it himself. "I'm good!"

"Good!" Greenberg nodded to him, "let's kick some BR ass!"

Stiles smiled. Yeah… Because none of their opponents were giants! And they had every chance to 'kick BR ass' without superhuman strength and agility!

The ref blew the whistle and it was break.

…

A few minutes later, they were back on field once more. The last quarter. The most exciting one. They were in the lead, by 1 point. They had to keep the Brunette Rock players from scoring, but it wouldn't hurt if they managed to get the ball in the opponents net a couple of times themselves…

The sound of the whistle rang through the air again. Game on!

The other team managed to win the ball at startup. And the captain passed the ball to number 17, who definitely wanted to go THROUGH Stiles… Stiles forgot that he was a bit smaller, and a lot lighter on the scale as he charged towards the freight train running towards him. He managed to get the ball to fall down from the stick, but then he was hit by the giant…

The first impact wasn't the worst. The fact that he somehow became a landing pillow for a 6'3" human beast was worse… There a sickening sound rang through the 'arena', and it seemed like everyone stopped dead in their tracks. And the ref blew his whistle and stopped the game.

All he could wrap his mind around was the intense pain radiating from somewhere in his left leg. He tried shifting under the heavy mass of number 17, only to find that whatever was wrong with his leg REALLY didn't like movement.

He groaned as tears welled up in his eyes. The guy, something Dylan, started moving on top of him. Stiles straight out shrieked as the Dylan guy managed to jostle his abused left leg.

"Whoa, sorry!" number 17 said as he held out a hand, offering him some help to get up... He clearly hadn't taken a look at his 'pillow's' leg…

The pain was flaring from his leg, and he really didn't want to look at it. He could feel that it was bad!

"OH SHIT!" number 17 finally looked down at Stiles' legs. "I'm sorry man!"

'Sorry man' didn't quite cut it. His leg was broken or something, by a bulldozer of a guy! Who he bet had that as intention… Nope, 'I'm sorry man' wasn't enough…

A crowd gathered around him. Coach Finstock was hovering above his head, his face had turned white as a chalk and he was quite unwilling to look in the general direction of Stiles' legs.

Scott was also kneeling beside him, as an opposite to the coach, he had no real problems looking at the leg. But Stiles clearly saw him shudder…

"How bad…" he sniffled once before he managed to speak any further, "How bad is it?..."

Scott grimaced as he tried to come up with a proper response. He didn't want to scare his best friend, but it looked _bad_. He blinked once or twice before he managed to look Stiles in the eyes again.

"Your leg is broken…" he paused, trying desperately to find a nice way to explain what they all saw. He was cut off when Stiles finally decided he had searched for words long enough…

"You know it's broken…" he waited for Scott to confirm it, "like; I guess it must be broken. Or like; It's a compound fracture, yes it's broken…?"

Stiles put on his best brave face. Ready for the news he feared…

"Err… The last one fits best…" he said with a shrug of his shoulders. The kind of shrug he always made when he didn't know how to respond to hard questions… Instead he just grabbed Stiles' hand and took away as much of his pain as he could, luckily he was wearing a long-sleeve…

"Oh God…" Stiles did no longer care about the salty tears making their way down the side of his face, he no longer cared about the fact that he was about to start bawling… This honestly freaked him out…

* * *

**Okay... I have to say... I have next to no knowledge of Lacrosse...  
-I live in Norway... Our college apparently has a lacrosse team, took me almost two years to acquire that knowledge... -.-**

**Anyway... I hope you enjoyed the story so far... **


	4. Win it!

**Okay... Here's another one for you guys!  
-Thanks for the support!**

* * *

The sound of bone shattering was loud. LOUD! Maybe it was his special abilities that made it sound extra loud. The sound felt like a punch to his gut. He was sure he _felt_ the fracture! And he immediately knew whose leg it was…

The ref's whistle sounded across the field. The sound of the whistle hurt his head since he wasn't prepared for it. Then he ran over where his best friend was trapped under James Dylan, the BIGGEST guy on the opposing team!

The guy on top of him started moving, and Stiles screamed in agony. Probably because of the fracture he had just heard.

…

The sight was awful. Just above Stiles' knee, ivory white bone protruded from his skin. And a few inches below his knee again, a bruise started to form. He looked over at coach, who had taken ONE look at Stiles' leg and looked like he was about to vomit…

He knew he couldn't do anything about it right then and there… To bite him would probably heal him right back up, but a lot of people had already seen his bone sticking out of his thigh. It would be impossible to explain how something looking like a bad break suddenly healed overnight…

"How bad…" Stiles' voice was broken and his eyes were blurry from tears, "How bad is it?..."

"Your leg is broken…" Scott paused, wondering how he was supposed to describe the horrifying sight in front of him. He was cut off by Stiles who had waited long enough for the answer.

"You know it's broken…" he nodded, "like; I guess it must be broken. Or like; It's a compound fracture, yes it's broken…?"

Stiles set his jaw as he waited for him to answer. Scott knew the look… He had seen it a lot of times… Like when they were about to do stupid stuff they _knew_ had a better chance than not to hurt… Or when they knew they were about get yelled at, or hear bad news.

"Err… The last one fits best…" his shoulders moved up towards his ears. He really didn't want to explain the thing that was going on with his _brother's _leg.

All he could do was take away some of his pain.

...

After a few minutes, they managed to move him onto a stretcher and off the field. The ambulance was still a few miles out…

The ref walked over to where a rather pale Bobby Finstock were sitting, trying not to pass out from seeing the horrific scene on Stiles' left leg.

"Are your team ready to continue playing? Or should we wait for the ambulance to pick him up?"

"I don't know… I don't know…" coach muttered, "I have to ask them…"

He pulled himself to his feet and started walking over to where Stiles and a few of the other guys were. He kept his eyes off Stiles' legs. He didn't want to faint or puke in front of his players…

"Look guys, I totally get it if you don't want to play any more before the ambulance gets here… But the ref just asked… He wanted to know if you were ready, or if you… You know… Were ready… too…"

The guys looked at each other. Hesitantly.

"Just go play!" it was Stiles. He was a lot more relaxed now than a couple of minutes ago. He was in a lot less active pain now than when he was laying on the field… Mostly because of Scott's special skills.

"You sure?" coach asked looking straight up in the air.

"Yeah… Go!" Stiles nodded towards the field, "I'm all right…"

"You sure, Stilinski?"

"Yeah!" he smiled towards coach "I think I'm good…"

"Good? Your bone was sticking out of your thigh!"

"Yeah… Well… It's not that bad as long as I sit still…" he lied and looked over at Scott holding a hand on his shoulder in a very casual way, a couple of his fingers touching his skin. Easing his pain.

"Okay…" coach turned around, "Those of you that still feel like playing, come over and get ready… Ref will start the game when we're 10 players on the field…"

…

"Look… I only need one of you to stay here with me... The rest of you should get out there!" he nodded towards the field where a couple of their players started gathering around the coach…

"You sure…?"

"Hell yeah!" he sat up a little straighter so that would be able to see the rest of the game, "We've GOT to beat them now! Right!"

"Yeah… I guess we've got to!" Scott looked back at him, they had to win this game now…

"And Scott…" he waited for him to nod or say something, "You have to get out on that field, you're the captain. Remember?"

"But you're…" how should he say this again…

"I'm pretty sure one of the others are willing to stay here and hold my hand…"

"I can stay…" Isaac stated as he too put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, touching his skin with some of his palm…

"Okay… But if you change your mind… Just say so…" Scott said before he turned around and walked after the others…

* * *

**Hope you have enjoyed it so far...**

**(And I '****_decided'_**** that Isaac returned. I'm really not sure about how old he is supposed to be, if he's the same age as Scott and Stiles or if he's older. So I kind of just ****_decided_**** that he was the same age as S&amp;S, AND that he returned after some while...)**


	5. Hospital

**Hey! Thanks for the reviews so far! I'm loving it!**

**Thanks!**

* * *

A few hours later he woke up in a hospital bed. His leg was in a white cast from his toes up to his hip, and he already knew that the cast was going to be a SOB for the next month or two… He tried wiggling his toes, he could move them, but it shot a flare of pain up his leg!

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pain. Well… That attempt failed miserably…  
_Had they even given him painkillers…?_

He cast a glance across the room, he was alone… His dad was probably talking to the doctor, and his pack hadn't been allowed in yet…

He laid his head back on the pillow to rest. It had been a long day…

And then he drifted out again…

…

A warm hand squeezing his own woke him up the next time. He had no chance at guessing how much time had passed since he woke up the last time. Or how many times he had been awake up until now…

His blurry vision focused on his dad after a while, and then a man with a white coat. The doctor…

"How bad is it?" his voice came across raw. He hadn't expected that… "How long am I out for? How long will I have to walk around with those evil contraptions called crutches this time?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" the doc asked amused.

"No he sure don't…" his father answered for him.

"We're looking at eight to ten weeks as a starter. If you're lucky, it'll do with six or seven… But most likely eight to ten."

"So I've got two months, plus… And if I'm really unlucky… I probably get more…?"

"Correct… You will have to stay completely off that leg for the next month…"

Stiles rolled his eyes and let out an audible sigh... Four weeks with no weight on his leg at all would be torture, eight to ten weeks on crutches seemed impossible! He was already starting to get restless! What was he supposed to do for the next couple of months?!  
And when would this stop hurting this much?

…

"We won the game!" Scott cheered from the doorway. Like he had read Stiles' mind. He had been picked up a couple of minutes before the end. And the teams had the same score when he 'left'.

"Aw man! GREAT!" a smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. ""Wish I could have been there to watch the rest of the game too!"

"Isaac scored the last one! We won by one!" Scott smirked, obviously a bit proud of his beta. "The rest of the team is coming over soon…"

"But you're first?"

"Yeah… Well… I headed straight over after the game!"

"You did…?"

"Yeah… I took a real 'Stiles' move!" Scott smiled and pushed his shoulder off of the doorframe.

"That's a thing now?"

"Yeah… Ever since you stayed the whole weekend for Lydia!"

…

Half an hour later the rest of the team entered the room. They were still a little high on the victory, but also a bit reserved since their fellow teammate was in the hospital bed, with a cast stretching the full length of his leg.

"How long will you stay crippled?" coach Finstock asked when he reached Stiles' bed.

"Bad choice of words, coach…" Danny groaned and ran a hand down his face in frustration. Sometimes he was impressed by Bobby Finstock's ability to find the worst words possible…

"Somewhere between six and ten weeks…" Stiles answered staring at his hands.

"That's the time you have to wear the cast and hop around with those crutches!" Scott butted in, "Then you have to regain your strength and get better!"

"Yada yada!" Stiles rolled his eyes and glared at the ceiling. Like he would be able to take it slow when he would finally be able to toss his crutches…

"Ouch! That sucks!" coach shook his head…

* * *

**This was sort of an in-between chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it!**


	6. Pants

**Here comes another chapter for you guys!**

**Thanks for the awesome reviews so far! I love them!**

**-Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

He was released from the hospital the next day. His dad didn't have the luxury of taking a few days off work, so Derek volunteered to pick him up.

"You even smell hurt…" he said as he entered the door.

"Thanks, I feel like that too…" his voice was a bit somber…

"I found some clothes for you… Figured you weren't too happy about those open back hospital dresses…"

"Oh thank God!" Stiles smiled, he felt a bit exposed in the paper-thin open back thing he was wearing. The clothes he had been brought in with was stained red from his own blood…

Derek nodded as he placed the bag of clothes on the bed Stiles was laying in.

"I'll leave you to it…" he said and headed for the door again.

"Wait!"

Derek turned around to face Stiles again. A puzzled look spread across his face…

"I might need some help…" he admitted and buried his face in his palms. He was so NOT comfortable with this… "I'm not stretchy enough to reach my feet… Putting pants on kinda requires that…"

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Actually it only require that you can reach one of your feet…"

A blank expression painted across his features.

"You've never been in a long leg cast before? Have you…?"

"No…" Stiles admitted, "I've always ended up with those up to your knee ones…"

Derek smiled at his friend... Before he shook his head…

"It's easy… Just use your good leg to get the waistline below your cast, and use your good leg to shimmy it up until you can reach it with your hands…"

"How do you know this?" Stiles asked as he followed the directions, "You've never broken anything!? Well… Never broken anything that didn't heal up instantly…"

"Actually… I have…"

"How's that possible?"

"It involved an open fracture, wolfsbane and some kind of mixture a hunter had put together…"

"Wolfsbane… And you didn't die…?"

"No, it was a different kind… One that usually just slows us down… Doesn't kill us…"

Stiles nodded, he almost had problems believing what he heard. Derek Hale not healing instantly from a fracture…? Really?

"How long…?"

"Was I in a cast…?" Derek finished the question for him, "About fourteen excruciating weeks… The wolfsbane really slowed the whole process down…"

"Fourteen…" Stiles just repeated…

"Yeah… Three and a half months…"

"No, not really…" he admitted as he managed to pull the jogger up to his knees. Then he grabbed the hem with his right hand too and pulled it fully up…

"I have a scar from that… The only scar I've got actually…" Derek said a bit absentminded as his left hand reached down and rubbed the area just above his own knee.

…

A little while later, Stiles was fully dressed and able to ditch the embarrassing hospital dress. Boy, was he ready to get out of there!

The first day with crutches was always a bit challenging… This time around was no different…

He felt like the biggest klutz in the world. He probably looked like that too when he tried his best to balance as he hobbled towards the main exit. Melissa had asked if he wanted to be rolled out in a wheelchair, but he had declined the offer… Wheelchairs tended to disturb him by some odd reason…

When they finally reached the car, Derek sprinted in front of him and opened the passenger door of his car, waiting for Stiles to get in.

"A real gentleman today Sourwolf…" Stiles joked as he maneuvered himself into the seat.

"I'm still not sold on not ripping your throat out…"

"Oh…"

"Are you alright?" a flash of fear passed across Derek's eyes. Afraid that his friend had caused himself pain.

"I'm alright, I just said 'OH', like 'Oh, you're not…?'" Stiles let out a short laugh, "You totally went all mother hen!"

"Aha…" Derek nodded as his cheeks reddened, "Let's just get you home…"

…

During their drive to Stiles' house Stiles started struggling with his leg. It started to flare up and cause him great grief…

He tried hiding it. He didn't want to come off as a wimp to Sourwolf himself… Didn't even want to admit the fact that his leg tortured him to himself…

Shifting position was impossible, and it wasn't the position he was sitting in that caused himself either. It was basically the painkillers wearing off…

"Does it hurt?" Derek asked out of the blue.

"No."

"You're lying… I can hear your heartbeat… Remember?"

"Okay… It hurts…" Stiles sighed, "Just the meds starting to wear off… That's all…"

Derek looked at him. Before he casually placed his hand, palm up, on the armrest in the mid-console.

"We will never speak of this. Ever." Stiles said as he contemplated whether to take the offer or not.

"Agreed"

Then Stiles grabbed Derek's hand. It felt a bit strange holding hands like this while they drove towards his house, but Oh My God, did the pain fade away quickly!

* * *

**Well... What did you think?  
Did this go as you expected it to? **

**I kinda just felt like Derek had to have gone through something similar... Without healing up straight away...  
And I wanted to make it BAD...  
Sooo... I made up something, since he is a born werewolf...  
But hey... Making up things is what we do... Right?**


End file.
